Teacher's Pet
by Trinity Everett
Summary: "Her eyes cut past the administrator, however, settling on the man trailing behind him. She knows that man. That man's face is on the back of the book she's holding in her hands right now. Ho-ly... what is Richard Castle doing in her English class?" - A Pre-Series Caskett AU for Castle Fanfic Monday.


**Teacher's Pet**

_**Prompt**: AU. Richard Castle is teenage Kate Beckett's hot, funny English teacher. (Do what you want with this. Can be a teacher/student relationship, smut, whatever floats your boat) (This was brought on by the fact, Nathan used to be a teacher). From castlefanficprompts._

**Category: Pre-Series, Meeting AU**

**Rating: T**

**Note: **I meant to have this ready last week for #CastleFanficMonday, but that didn't happen. Instead I'm posting it bright an early today for everyone to (hopefully) enjoy!

* * *

As soon as she walks into the room for fourth period, she knows something's up. The atmosphere is different, charged with an energy that, when it comes to a classroom, can only mean something is about to happen.

Either they're watching a movie, or they have a substitute teacher. Maybe even both.

Judging by the overly tidy, empty desk in the corner and the lack of a TV in the center of the room, it's the latter.

Thank god. That means Grouchy Old Mrs. Macintosh is out for the day. It might mean the end of the world is near – the woman has been teaching at Stuy practically since it opened, missing only twelve days in her entire career – but Kate Beckett will _take _it.

If Macky's not here, then the carefully guarded,for-her-eyes-only midterm torture is postponed for at least another day, if not longer. Which is good, because Kate is in no way prepared and her parents _will_ kill her for going to that party over the weekend if she bombs this test.

The worst part is she _loves _English. She just hates the old bat she'd drawn the short straw and ended up stuck with this semester. There are so many other great teachers, fun and eager to talk about literature _beyond_ the same senior English curriculum that's been taught for a gazillion years, and she ends up with Macintosh. The most by-the-book teacher Stuy has ever seen.

Honors or not, it's boring as shit. She wants to talk about the classics and the contemporaries from any genre, American lit post-Depression, not just from Macky's heyday. Hell, she just wants the material to be _fun_.

A sub is a welcome reprieve.

"So what do we think? Did Satan call her back to give her new orders?"

As funny as the question might be, Kate ignores it. After what happened on Friday night, talking to Brent Edwards isn't on her list of things to do today, maybe not ever again. But in a way, it actually helps that he wants to pretend nothing happened, that he hadn't been cozying up to her for the last six weeks only to suck face with her (former) best friend when Kate left the room for ten minutes.

Whatever. Brent's an asshole and Maddie deserves him. They deserve each other.

She leans back, grabbing her novel out of her bag to show Brent how easily she can ignore him. Propping her feet on basket underneath the desk in front of her, the heavy heels of her boots make a muted clang to emphasize her point.

Brent continues anyway, resting his bony chin on her shoulder the same way he has for the last six weeks. Only this time instead of it being cute, instead of feeling flattered, Kate has to bury the urge to shrug him off. Or worse, bump him hard enough to make his teeth crack together.

"Do you think we'll still have the test today? Cause I didn't study at _all _this weekend."

Gritting her own teeth, Kate drops her head to read. She didn't study either; Saturday was spent hungover and heartbroken, and Sunday was dedicated to purging her life of the terrible people she's spent her time with for the last four years. That's not something she's going to tell him, though.

"Be-_ecks_, talk to me. I thought we had fun at the party."

Her lips twist into a mocking smile. "Oh loads. _Loads_. And then you and Maddie had even more fun at the _after_ party."

"She said you were okay with it."

Of course she did. Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore.

"Well I'm sure you'll be very happy together." She turns the page on the novel, the gesture definitive and hopefully symbolic. Either way, Brent ultimately ignores it.

"Come on, Kate. I thought we were buddies."

Yeah, she hadn't written that last short response paper for him because she wanted to be _buddies_. She'd done it because she's an idiot.

"Yeah, well, we're not. Now get off of me."

She's just shoved him off amidst his protests when the vice principal steps into the classroom calling for silence.

Her eyes cut past the administrator, however, settling on the man trailing behind him. She knows that man. That man's face is on the back of the book she's holding in her hands right _now_.

Ho-ly shit, what is Richard Castle doing in her English class?

For the first time in probably ever, she gives her school administrator her full attention. He explains that Old Lady Macky is quite sick and isn't sure when she'll be well enough to return. As a result, the midterm has been postponed until either it can be picked up from Macintosh's home, or a new one can be created. It's good news, of course, but still tells her nothing about why Richard Freaking Castle is leaning against the ancient blackboard surveying the class.

His pleasant smile grows when his eyes land on her and the book in her hand. She doesn't hide it. Doesn't duck her chin in embarrassment. Instead, she meets his gaze even as her cheeks flush a little bit more than she'd like.

Shit, he's hot. _Really _hot. Brent Edwards _who_?

"To minimize the disruption of learning, we've arranged for a substitute teacher to take over the class until Mrs. Macintosh returns. Class, this is Mr. Castle. He'll be in charge of creating and grading your assignments, so treat him as you would your regular teacher."

That won't be difficult. She doesn't treat Macky _badly_, but she'll definitely treat Mr. Castle even better than that.

Marking her place in the novel, she sits up a little bit as Richard Castle takes center stage in the room.

"Thank you, Vice Principal Andrews." He waits until the door is closed to continue, "I'll make this introduction quick. My name is Richard Castle. You can call me Mr. Castle, or Castle, or Coach Castle, or Doctor Castle, even though I'm not a coach and I don't have a doctorate. But they both sound cool, so if that makes you happy, go for it. I'm a professional procrastinator, which means I'm a writer. Some of you may have heard of me," he adds, sending a ridiculous wink her way. "I'm uh, I'm twenty eight, I've never really taught before, but I was requested because of my practical experience and because I owed the superintendent of schools a pretty big favor."

He offers the room a charming grin, one she finds herself returning. She's one of the only ones to do so; most the girls who would normally be all over an attractive man are slumping in their chairs, bored.

"Anyway, I'm happy to be here and excited to work with you. So if you have any questions, feel free to ask. Since I've only known I have this job for about four hours, I don't have anything planned, so I figure introductions from you guys and then… we'll find a TV for movie time?"

There's a rumble of approval that makes him grin. "Good. Let's get started then. Tell me your name, your favorite author, and an interesting fact about you."

Fishing for compliments, huh, Mr. Castle? Good try.

She sees him listening carefully to each introduction, filing names away for future use. When it's finally her turn, she ignores the expectant look on his face in favor of choosing her words carefully.

"My name is Kate Beckett. My favorite author is either Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy, but I don't mind more contemporary authors," she drawls, tapping the back cover of her novel quickly. "And an interesting fact about me is I can sing Pearl Jam songs in almost three languages."

Castle grins, the same friendly grin he's given everyone else but she knows he's amused by her refusal to use his name. "Thank you, Ms. Beckett."

Score one for Kate Beckett.

Over the next three and a half weeks, she becomes the teacher's pet without even trying. He assigns homework she completes in her next class. She participates in the class discussions more than just about anyone else does, relishing in his grateful looks when the silence from her peers goes on too long.

She knows it's a stupid crush to have. Yeah, he's a minor celebrity. Yeah, he _is _one of her favorite authors. Yeah, he's stupid hot and funny, and fun to talk to about non-literary things, too. But he's still her _teacher_ and eighteen or not, she knows he probably looks at her like she's just a child.

She can't help herself, though. She even pictures ducking into an empty classroom and sitting in his lap, disturbing him from the book he's told them he's been working on with a hand on his face and her mouth against his. Still, she thinks about leaning against Old Lady Macky's desk and letting Richard Castle drive her insane in ways no one else ever has before.

Whenever she thinks about that, it's hard to look him in the eye the next day.

Disappointment settles heavily in her belly when her friend Marc tells her on their way to lunch that he heard his English teacher – the department head – tell someone else Mrs. Macintosh would be back on Monday. That's it? That's all she gets? A month with Castle?

"You're sure?"

Marc shrugs. "Pretty sure. Macky apparently had some sort of toe fungus grow out of control or something. I heard the CDC had to be called in."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Pretty sure she had a bad cold, but okay. So what? Castle's leaving after today?"

Another shrug from her friend. "Guess so. Then it's back to the fire breathing dragon for you."

"Joy," she drawls, shaking her head. "Thanks, Marc."

"No prob, bob." He holds the door to the cafeteria for her, gesturing for her to go first. "Are you sitting with us today?"

She's been sitting outside for the last few weeks, ignoring the cold (and the fact that they removed the picnic tables because too many people were ditching class after lunch) and eating her food in silence. A quick look at her usual table tells her all she needs to know; Maddie and Brent are front and center with the rest of the "group," pretending everything's great.

No, she doesn't really want to eat outside again; spring isn't feeling so springy right now and the leather jacket she's wearing isn't warm at all. She won't eat with them, though. Never again. No, she knows where she's taking her food.

"Ah, no," she denies quickly, turning a smile on for Marc. "I'm gonna just grab a tray and go to the library today."

"Come on, Becks. Don't let Maddie get to you."

"Who's Maddie?" She shakes her head. "No, I just want to research a point before class today."

"Kate," Marc sighs. Damn, he knows her almost as well as Maddie used to.

"What? I just want to show Castle we're not all obsessed with prom and painting our nails to match our dresses. That's _all_. It's fun and it drives him crazy when I prove him wrong."

"I'm just saying…"

"And I'm just saying you need to go eat." She pats his cheek, grabbing a Styrofoam lunch tray and choosing the least offensive food options she can.

Marc exhales. "You and your all over the place taste in men."

She's still laughing over her shoulder at him when she pays for her lunch. "See ya."

She _does_ go to the library first, ignoring the look she gets from the media specialist when she sets her tray down on a table and grabs the book she was hoping would still be around. Finding the page she wants is easy and she's out of the woman's hair with the book and her food just a few minutes later. That's good. She only has 35 minutes for lunch and ten of them are nearly gone.

When she makes it to the English hallway, she has to take a moment to slow her breathing. She's _just_ bringing discussion material to a teacher on her lunch break. That's all.

Nothing more than that.

Castle looks up when she steps inside, smiling his polite smile before his face relaxes into what she considers his "real" smile. He gives her the latter more often than not.

"Hey, Castle," she greets, using the familiar term instead of the formal one most of her classmates favor. "Are you busy?"

"Of course not. Aren't you supposed to be at lunch?" He closes his moleskin notebook, clearing a spot for her to lower her tray onto Macky's desk.

"Yeah, I am. I usually sit outside but it's too cold today."

He smiles again, nodding.

"Plus, I realized I could prove you wrong and eat at the same time." She grins, dragging a chair over and plunking down beside him.

Castle chuckles. "Prove me wrong, hmm? About what?"

Kate opens the book, placing it just under his nose. "About that, _Mr. Castle_," she purrs triumphantly.

He blinks, and it takes her a moment to realize the line she's walking. "Just read it. Tell me I'm wrong."

Leaning her cheek on her hand, she picks up a fry as his eyes skim the text in front of him. He chuckles.

"Damn, you are right."

"Hah," she beams, offering him a fry. "Told you. What do I win?"

"My admiration and appreciation for your attention to detail."

"No extra credit? I'm disappointed."

Castle scoffs, reaching for another fry as soon as he finishes the first. "I think you and I both know you don't need extra credit."

Her cheeks flush. She likes to keep an air of careful indifference, but doing well is pretty damn important to her.

"So why are you really here, Kate?"

Lowering her head, she reaches for whatever her entrée is supposed to be. "I heard you were leaving today."

"That's the rumor. Unless Mrs. Macintosh needs more time. They said they'd let me know on Sunday night, so I have enough time to drop Alexis off at day camp if I need to."

"Yeah," she says, lifting a shoulder in an attempt at nonchalance. "Anyway I thought maybe you'd like company on your last day."

"And?" he probes.

"And I'd rather talk to you than the crappy people I used to call my friends."

Castle nods thoughtfully, taking another fry off her tray. "Yeah I saw you fending off Edwards that first day."

"Mhmm. He uh, whatever, he's a jerk. And so is my best friend – former best friend."

"Ah." It's a knowing sound, though, not a mocking one.

"It's not the first time either," Kate continues, "So I don't really know why I even expected anything else. It was stupid."

He makes a sympathetic face. "Tell you a secret?"

The breath she releases is shaky, but she nods. "Sure."

"When my daughter was two and a half, I caught my wife cheating. It wasn't the first time, even though I'd tried to be twenty times the husband I'd been before…" he clears his throat. "Anyway, my point is I understand the desire to believe it won't happen again. There's no shame in that. It's not stupid."

"Yeah," she exhales. "Thanks. And um, I'm sorry about your wife."

"Don't be. It took over a year and," he pauses, looking around like he's going to say something he shouldn't, "a lot of alcohol at times, but I know it was for the best. I got sole custody of my daughter, Meredith moved to Malibu, and I finally could leave the toilet seat up as often as I pleased."

Kate laughs softly, nodding. "That's fair. I think that probably means you deserve the cookie more than I do, though." She offers it to him.

"We'll share."

Ducking her head, she nods. "Sure. We'll share."

He splits the cookie down the middle, giving her the choice (just in case there's a "suboptimal" amount of chocolate on one side, he explains).

"So do you like teaching? Now that you've been doing it for a month?"

Castle chuckles. "It's interesting. It's not like what I expected. I think it's 'cause I have the 'cool teacher' vibe going for me. They'd probably eat me alive if this is what I did full-time, though."

"Yeah, probably." She swipes a crumb off her lips, grinning.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Beckett."

She shrugs. "Well, they're generally awful people, so don't take it personally."

His face softens. "You uh, want to talk about it?"

"No," she denies, drawing her feet into the chair with her. "I want to make it to the end of the semester, graduate, and go to Stanford away from all of them."

"Wow, Stanford."

Lifting her face, she grins. "Uh huh. I got my official acceptance last week."

Castle beams back at her. "Congratulations. This calls for a celebration." He hops to his feet, patting his pockets.

She laughs. "A celebration?"

"Uh huh. But ah, I think the –" he stops as the lunch bell rings. "That."

Damn, she needs to go back to her class for the next hour. Then she'll be able to come back here and take her seat and watch him work his magic over the class.

"Damn. Rain check?" It comes out more hopeful than she means for it to, but Castle just nods.

"Rain check," he promises, dumping her empty tray in the garbage beside his desk.

"Perfect." She smiles quickly, clamping down on her excitement. He's just being nice. She has to remember he's just being nice; it doesn't mean anything more than that. "See ya, Castle."

"One hour, go on," he murmurs, winking.

There's a cup of coffee waiting on her desk when she walks into fourth period. She recognizes the Styrofoam cup as the kind they stock for the teachers in the lounge, and her eyes jump to where Castle is hastily scribbling something on the board, his back to them all.

He brought her coffee.

Lowering her head, she slides into her seat and reaches for the cup. It's still warm; he must've rushed to the lounge to pour it as soon as his last class left the room.

For her. He did that for her. Yeah, the post-it underneath the cup says it's the celebration he'd been planning before lunch ended, but there was no reason he even needed to do that.

This time when he turns, he catches her eye. She can only grin and hold the treat closer to her chest.

"Thanks," she mouths, watching his smile grow. God, he's hot.

And if luck is on her side, he's only her teacher for a few more hours. She can work with this.

With her plan in mind, the rest of the day inches forward. She takes notes in fifth period, and grumbles her way through a quiz in sixth, only to find herself with her bag slung over her shoulder, walking back to the English hallway after final dismissal.

His post-it crinkles in her pocket, reminding her of her mission.

She finds him at the computer Macky does her best to never touch, probably entering grades for the last time before he packs up and leaves. Good, she has perfect timing.

"I see you survived the crush of well-wishers on your last day."

He jumps a bit at her voice, waiting a beat before twisting to make sure it's really her.

He smiles. "Well there were lots of tears, a few hugs, half a dozen requests to have characters named after them, and a dozen or so indifferent looks. So I guess I did."

Biting her lip, she chuckles. "Yeah I know you're going to miss Brent so badly, you can hardly stand it."

It's brave to saunter over to his desk and perch, watching his fingers slide over the keyboard as he enters the final row of grades he's responsible for, but she does it.

Castle laughs lightly. "You caught me."

"Mmm, yeah I thought so," she singsongs, smirking.

The look he gives her is nothing short of devious; it leaves her heart hammering in her chest. He knows why she's here. He has to know why she's here.

She stays silent, though, waiting until he's completed his work and logged out of the computer, officially ending his control over her GPA and thus any potential cries of favoritism.

"I'm not going to prom," she announces to the room, lowering her chin when he looks over finally.

"You're not?"

"Don't you think I'm cooler than that?" she teases, lifting an eyebrow.

He laughs. "I do, but senior prom's a pretty big deal."

Kate scoffs, "Whatever. I bet you didn't go to yours either. It's just a bunch of people who don't really like each other anyway spending way too much money on dresses, dinner, and limos to pretend they're awesome and get trashed at the after party."

"Uh huh," he drawls.

"Anyway, there's a poetry slam in the East Village that I _am_ going to. Care to join me?"

That makes him sputter a bit. "Kate… that's…"

Exactly the reaction she'd been expecting, though not what she'd been hoping to hear. She pushes past the disappointment, reaching into her pocket for the note she'd scribbled as soon as she finished her quiz.

"Just… invitation's open. It should be fun. Just a friendly thing, not a big deal. Here's my number and my email… if you want it."

Looking around quickly, she brushes her lips over his cheek. "Thanks for the last month, Mr. Castle."

He takes the paper slowly, pressing his fingers against hers. "Thanks, Kate."

* * *

He doesn't come to the slam. She hadn't really expected him to, not after his response when she invited him, but disappointment still slams her gut heavily. It _would_ have been fun to have him there.

He also doesn't call at all. Or write. The latter's more unexpected than anything else, because she'd thought he'd at least want to continue teasing her about the future of his next novel the way he had all month. Instead, there's just nothing.

It's fine. She spends the last month and a half of the semester focusing on getting out of dodge. AP tests come and go, the rest of her finals come and go, until only Senior Week remains.

She won't miss any of these people, but the week is still surprisingly fun. By the time they finish their commencement practice on Friday, she's actually almost friends with the people sitting around her. Who knew all it took was impressions of a few of the more serious teachers on faculty to get people to open up?

She tries not to think about how funny Castle would find the entire thing.

Her newfound buddies somehow convince her to agree to come to a party after the ceremony. She has no idea who the person throwing it is, other than they're part of her graduating class, but agreeing means getting to play before she has to act like the grown up she supposedly is now.

The actual commencement ceremony is long and boring, but once she's walking across the stage and collecting her diploma cover, she doesn't care. She is _done_. The rest of the ceremony is spent barely sitting still in the hard plastic seat, anticipating the moment they're declared graduates and she can be on her way.

Her parents meet her at the entrance to the auditorium, happy, proud tears in their eyes as they share a firm group embrace.

"Congratulations, Katie," her mother praises, kissing her cheek. "I am _so_ proud of you. Why didn't you tell me they were giving you an award?"

She laughs, leaning into her mom as her father flutters around them, snapping picture after picture. "Surprise?"

Truthfully, she's pretty sure Castle's the one who recommended her for the award. Which is gratifying, but only serves to remind her how silly her crush really was. She was just a student, an eighteen year old kid. Nothing more.

But she doesn't want to explain that to her mom. That the boy she'd felt the invigorating tendrils of affection for was actually not a boy at all, that he was a man and the reason she'd been given a plaque on her way across the stage as well as her "diploma," to boot.

"Great surprise," Johanna agrees, squeezing her tightly. Jim steps in moments later for his turn, his set of hugs and pictures.

"So you're going to that party now?" her father asks, calm despite an expression that suggests he'd rather her come home with them and have a late family dinner.

"Yeah. I'm meeting up with Marc in a few minutes. I'm not going to stay very long, though. I promise." She kisses his cheek, already shedding her gown and trading with Johanna for her purse. "But you don't need to wait up for me either. I'll be safe."

He sighs, rubbing her back. "Okay, sweetheart," he agrees, though all three of them know regardless of what time it is when she comes home, he'll be waiting for her on the couch, glasses perched on his nose and his book falling out of his hands. "We'll see you in the morning if nothing else."

"Uh huh. Bye, Dad," she murmurs, kissing his cheek again. She kisses Johanna quickly. "Bye, Mom. See you in the morning."

"Have fun, Katie."

"I will." She waves, waiting until they're out of sight before spinning on her heel and trying to find Marc in the crowd.

Of course, he's nowhere to be found. Even after the crowd begins to thin, thanks to students leaving on their own or with their friends and families, she can't find him. Great.

It's fine; she knows where she's going, even if he's ditched her. It doesn't matter if she has to catch the Q train on her own.

Still, a heads up would've been nice.

She makes a complete circle of the place before giving in; Marc's actually gone. He's not one of the few people still lingering in the courtyard. In fact, she doesn't recognize anyone, save for one figure.

The one leaning against a planter holding two cups of coffee in their hands.

Waiting for her.

Squaring her shoulders, she makes her way over to him.

"Long time no see," she greets, pushing her hands into her dress pockets. It's chillier than she expected it to be, but she doesn't shiver.

It's a relatively neutral statement, not meant to make him feel guilty about rejecting her or her incredibly obvious advances, but she sees his head dip in remorse.

"Congratulations, Kate." He holds out one of the coffees, the peace offering inherent in the gesture.

"Thanks, Castle."

Their fingers brush carefully, but she pushes the feeling of _whatever_ it is down in favor of lifting the cup to her lips. Her first sip of coffee is heaven, perfect and sweet and just the right amount of warmth.

"Good?" he asks, lacing his fingers around his own travel mug.

"Perfect."

"I'm glad."

She perches beside him on the planter, glancing around the courtyard slowly. Marc really ditched her. What a jerk.

"I wanted to call," he starts after a few minutes of sipping their coffee together in silence. "But it…"

"Yeah, I know," she sighs, letting him off the hook. "It would've felt weird."

He exhales. "Little bit, yeah. Not because you're not… beautiful and smart, because you are."

"Uh huh," she hums, sipping her coffee again.

"It was the environment, though. Teacher, student, all that. I know I wasn't your _real_ teacher, but the school probably would've had me arrested regardless," he stops to rub his neck quickly. "And even if things had been just friendly, it would've come back on you, too."

_If_ things had been just friendly. His wording doesn't escape her.

"So are things really that different now?" she asks, wanting to cut through it. If he's going to let her down gently for real this time, she'd rather just get it over with so she can get to the party and put him out of her mind.

"Well, you're not a student anymore. And I'm no longer even remotely connected to the public school system."

"I'm still only eighteen," she reminds him, lifting an eyebrow.

"And I'm still an old man," he retorts, lips twisting a little bit.

"Aww, Castle, twenty-nine's not old," she teases, bumping him gently with her elbow. Yeah, she knows he had a birthday soon after he left Stuy. "I went out with this guy once who claimed to be French royalty. He said he was five years older than me, turns out he was closer to fifteen."

He chokes on his coffee. "That's… wow."

Laughing, she shakes her head. "So now I draw the line at dating any guy who started puberty before I was even born."

"Good benchmark, I guess? I was thirteen, by the way. When I started puberty."

She cackles, lowering her chin to her chest to silence the outburst. "Good to know."

Castle smiles, exhaling. "So, uh, I imagine you already have plans, but if you don't… you wanna get some dinner to go with the coffee?"

Technically she does have plans, but what's the harm in getting to the party a little bit later than she said she would.

"Doesn't dinner usually come before coffee, Castle?" Her eyebrow lifts.

He shrugs. "I'm a little backwards sometimes."

"Yeah you are," she retorts, hopping down from the planter and brushing any stray dirt off her skirt. "So where are you taking me?"

A smile splits his face wide open. "What about dinner on a rooftop with a gorgeous view of the city?"

Fancy. And romantic.

"Little bit chilly for a rooftop meal, Castle," she hedges without any actual seriousness. "And aren't you worried I'm really just a gold digger out for your millionaire author fortune?"

"Ah, but you'd be eating with a gentleman who'd give you his jacket. Right now, in fact. And nope. You're too driven for that."

Biting her lip, she nods. "Okay. Thanks. For the jacket, I mean."

Their coffees land side by side on the planter before she shrugs into the sport coat. It's warm from his body, and the hint of his cologne makes her inhale. God, he smells good; no shitty teenage boy body spray for Richard Castle.

Lifting her coffee again, she slides her arm through his.

"Lead the way."

She ends up staying out all night after all, but it isn't to go to a party. After dinner, he's not ready to say good night (neither is she), so he suggests a walk. When her feet finally begin to protest the time spent in her massive heels, they find a bench and talk until a park patrol officer chases them out.

Okay, maybe the kissing doesn't help keep them in the cop's good graces.

The sky is starting to blossom with rosy, pre-dawn light when he finally walks her home, holding her shoes in one hand and her hand in the other. Kate knows his daughter's with her grandmother, so she doesn't feel too guilty about keeping him out all night. Especially not when he kisses her on her front steps, promising to talk to her after her family graduation festivities die down later that evening.

He asks her on a second date that night.

Two years after they're married, he finally confesses that he still has fantasies of her straddling him in Macky's chair and purring, "Mr. Castle," into his throat. And though Grouchy Old Mrs. Macintosh has long-since retired and there is a newer, much younger teacher occupying her old classroom, Kate makes it happen at her ten-year reunion.

After all, it is a fantasy of hers, too.


End file.
